The Humbled (The Lost Words: Volume 4) (16 page)

His companion for the evening was already enjoying the free delicacies of the house, slouched like a slug, already drunk. Ever since his captivity, Adrian had taken to some heavy drinking, not relenting even after safely returning home. He was slurping expensive wine as if it were water. Such a disservice,
Stephan thought, because that wine could buy the apprenticeship of some common lad in the city. The invitation card rested on the table in front of him, Stephan’s name etched into the soft metal.

The councillor saw him and raised a pudgy, unsteady hand in greeting. The other was clasped firmly round a glass, sloshing red. “Stephan,” he called, too loudly.

Stephan grimaced, trying to twist the expression into a smile. The girls at his shoulder followed him like a shadow, eyes fixed on him, waiting for his instructions, his whims. The house owner was a strict master. If you were a fool, you would mistake the dutiful adoration for a chance to grope a handful. But if you did that, you would never see the interior of the House of Gentlemanly Pleasure again. If you wanted to fuck, you went to a brothel.

“Adrian,” he greeted in return, sitting down on plush velvet. The fabric hissed under his buttocks. “I see you are sampling the wines.”

The drunkard pointed emphatically, philosophically. “Let me tell you. It’s not as simple as it looks. Some of these wines taste almost identical.”

Stephan looked at a lovely servant. He wondered where one might find a girl this beautiful. He did not remember seeing them anywhere on the streets, nor in any shop, nor even in the city villas. “Any vintage will do, thanks. Some chives and olives, too, please.”

She nodded and retreated, swaying with precision. Stephan recalled his captivity at Roalas. All in all, it had turned out to be a fruitful endeavor. He had met a lot of people, earned new friends and enemies, slept his way through both the Eracian and Caytorean delegations, and almost made himself the savior of the realms. Well, at least he had built character.

“How are things going, friend?” he asked Adrian, who seemed to be kissing and licking the rim of a new, full glass.

Adrian put the wine down, untouched. “Things are going in all directions,” he said wisely.

Stephan crossed his hands, waiting. Adrian was a drunkard, but he was also a very well-informed councillor with friends in almost every sector of commerce. In the past, he used to be a sour, distant person, and other councillors and merchants had often avoided him unless they had to trade with him. Now, back in Eybalen, he had cast away his somber mood but retained the drinking. For some reason, people liked him better that way. For an even stranger reason, they mistook his new relaxed character for charm. Maybe they considered him harmless or found it funny to spill their secrets to his turgid mind. Maybe they thought they could swindle him, wheedle him out of his gold. For now, Adrian seemed to be winning, having gained quite a following without giving anything in return.

Stephan knew trying to be nice and polite with Adrian would get him nowhere. So he had adopted a different tactic. He had given Adrian access to the house.

In a city where prestige meant everything, having something others could not was a huge bonus.

Adrian’s entry might harm his reputation, Stephan thought, but he was willing to take the risk. After all, what he planned went beyond intrigue, gossip, and silly status. He was trying to save his realm from ruin, prevent a civil war, ally himself with Athesia while keeping the Parusites happy, all the while gaining himself the title of “emperor.” That went beyond the trifle matter of flair.

“Tell me more,” Stephan goaded.

Adrian winked knowingly. “What I overheard is quite incredible. The rumor will spread faster than gleet among
sailors.” He laughed at his own words while Stephan waited patiently. Adrian could take his time getting to the point, like a nervous lover flirting with a chaste girl, but he would eventually get there, with both hands.

Stephan nodded as the servant put his own drink and nibbles in front of him. He reached for a pitted black olive and placed it between his teeth.

“Lady Rheanna has escaped from Pain Daye,” Adrian blurted, too loudly.

Stephan bit into the olive, and almost swallowed involuntarily. Escaped? This was an absolute catastrophe of news. Not because he did not care for the welfare and good health of James’s widow. But because it complicated everything and shattered his own plans and ambitions like thin glass.

“Keep your voice down, friend,” Stephan advised, smiling woodenly. “Where did you get this information? A reliable source?”

Adrian leaned back, but that only meant juggling his fat a little. “Most reliable.”

“Does anyone know this yet?” There would be no way of keeping this secret. But if he had a week head start before the rest of the High Council discovered the story, he could perhaps leverage some of the disaster in his favor.

“Well someone must know. Otherwise, how would they have told me?”

Stephan did not prod. It would be pointless. As far he was concerned, Adrian could use magic to get his knowledge. What mattered was what he should do right now.

“When did it happen?”

Adrian shrugged. “A while back.” He emptied the cup he had slobbered earlier. “No one knows where she is.”

If Stephan were the banker, he would not be showing his face before getting some strong, powerful allies either. Rheanna had kept her distance from the council for a while, only coming back briefly to confirm her employees and partners wouldn’t betray her tust and to make sure the numbers in the books at the year’s end looked right. She had spent some time with her father, toured the city, met some delegates, then gone back to her foreign husband. Not the friendliest gesture to her countrymen and her associates. Then again, she must have bet too much of her luck on the council’s willingness to appease the late emperor, as well as his military strength.

She must be wondering how the High Council would react to her downfall, and to her newly gained freedom. She must be wondering if they had already forgotten her, or maybe sold her out, stricken her out of the ledgers as an unfortunate collateral loss. She could not be certain her brief captivity had not been supported by Eybalen’s finest. After all, Guild Master Sebastian had been the one to hold her hostage.

Or had he?

After all, she
did
escape. Somehow.

“Do you know the details?”

Adrian was waving at one of the beautiful waitresses. “Well. Kind of. She was being taken to Athesia when her convoy was attacked. They killed the soldiers and got her away. She had some strong support there, and they knew she was coming.”

If a friend gambler asked Stephan where to place his money, he would heap it in favor of Sebastian. He was almost certain the man was involved in some way. He had switched his allegiance rather quickly, albeit after almost being killed by those fools Otis and Melville. But had he remained loyal to Amalia after James’s death? Worse yet, was he playing both sides?

That was what the best gamblers did: spread their coins about, increased their chances of victory.

Or…maybe Sebastian had acted out of necessity. He might have been forced to remain loyal, following Amalia’s brutal take-over in the wake of her brother’s demise. She was rumored to be killing anyone who opposed her, hanging soldiers without regard for her losses, even though she desperately needed every sword and spear against the Parusites.

If not Sebastian, then who? One of his colleagues in the city?

That only made him even more troubled.

He drank wine. Not the best thing for clarity of mind, but the possibilities threatened to obliterate his senses. This was the wrong thing, happening at the wrong time. Just when he was carefully planning to make himself the handsome scapegoat of his nation.

“I do not like this,” he confessed.

Adrian chuckled, wine coming out of his nostrils. “I thought you liked gambling. How about a wager?”

Stephan wondered if his friend might not be less drunk than he let show. Or maybe he had grown used to thinking with his brain steeped in expensive wines. “What did you have in mind?”

“Your guess when Lady Rheanna shows herself, and who with as her supporters.”

The waitress was back again, all pearly teeth and honest eyes. “Would you honor us for dinner, my lords?”

Stephan was normally always polite to beautiful women. But he waved her away, maybe too brusquely. If she felt offended, she never showed it, just glided seductively away.

“A thousand gold pieces?”

Adrian nodded, wet lips pursed, with red bubbles of wine in the corners. “Sebastian.”

Stephan gritted his teeth. He would have to name someone else now. “Not him. Someone else.”

Then, just like during the council meeting in the harbor, another name popped into his mind.

Another worthy candidate.

The safest bet is no bet. If you must choose a side, choose yourself
. He remembered the words of the notorious card player Tielo, a man who, according to legend, had never once bluffed in a game. But that was just risky, too risky. Shit. He was not thinking straight. He was reacting, improvising, responding to his fears. That was the wrong way to plan his future.

She already has an ally
, he realized. Someone who would risk everything to get her free. Someone who valued her freedom more than peace and unity in Caytor. There was a dangerous, unknown party already involved, and they might not like Stephan’s idea.

Adrian was expecting more, but Stephan kept his mouth shut, mind swimming. “What happens now?”

“You will try to keep this story quiet for a while, as a personal favor to me.” Stephan tapped the invitation card. “I will try to figure something out.”

“What will Empress Amalia do?” Adrian asked. He was trying yet another wine sample.

Stephan steepled his fingers, touching his forehead, rolling the invisible dice of options in front of his eyes, hardly seeing his fat colleague. He was wondering how the empress would react. You could never really know what desperate people might do. After all, half her troops were Caytoreans. If Sebastian abandoned her, and Rheanna declared against her, that would mean open war. That alone might push her into seeking peace
with the Parusites or turning to Eracia for help. That would mean Athesia would never become Caytorean land again. And if she survived this turmoil, she would make sure Caytor paid heavily. Ruined trade, lost wealth.

Which meant Lady Rheanna had to be found and controlled. Steered in the right direction. Made to understand the situation and accept the right choices. It seemed there was no escaping the inevitable. Stephan would be forced to get involved.

One empress or another, what’s the difference?
At least he knew Rheanna and what she could do. Amalia was an unpredictable, unruly child who had ruined her father’s peace. She threatened everything.

He was leaping into the distant future, caressing options so vague they were thinner than mist. If he could somehow convince Rheanna to stand by Amalia, despite their differences, he would forge a powerful alliance. He would be able to influence the Parusites and, better yet, his own council.

Opportunities are problems in disguise
, he remembered. A Blackwood quote. Or was it Askel?

“I must ask you for a favor, Adrian,” he said. “You
must
find Rheanna. You must.”

Adrian reached over and snagged an olive from Stephan’s platter. “I can try my best.”

Stephan wondered if he should offer an extra incentive. Yes, why not. It always paid off to be nice to your friends. “I guess I could find some handsome investments in your businesses after we conclude this affair.”

Adrian munched loudly. “Indeed. I was fancying taking over the fish markets.”

“How does that work with your other commerce? Fish and paint?”

The fat man shrugged. “It’s always something I fancied.”

Stephan noted the future debt. “That can be arranged.” Then, he remembered something else. Sebastian had been writing to him, gladly sharing information. Now, though, he doubted everything he had read in the man’s letters, his interpretation of political situations, his intentions, everything. “I will also need to know who owns Sebastian’s loyalty.”

Adrian waved for a waitress again, pointing at all the empty glasses in front of him. “How about some food? I’m hungry. I want lampreys.”

Stephan did not relish any snaky things. He wanted an honest, simple meal. “I will probably order roast lamb and goose liver medallions.” No, he must not be derailed now. “Make sure you find out about Sebastian’s intentions.”

“If he keeps his head after all this.” True, Amalia might decide he should join the long list of councillors and guild members who had thought they could manipulate Adam’s offspring and found themselves short of a head. “Darling,” Adrian cooed at the woman.

She listened to their choices, pouted prettily, and retreated. Both of them stared after her, unable to help themselves. Strange, Stephan thought, that even in the most complex life situations, a man’s brain would always spare a moment to appreciate a nice body. He had almost expected to find such fine poetry in Blackwood’s books, but the man was silent on the affair of rumps and eyes and danger.

As they waited for their dinner, the waitress came with a dozen tiny delicacies to whet their appetite. She was helped by a flock of other women just as charming and seductive as she. The house had earned its reputation well. It amazed him every time.

Adrian was busy drinking new wines, so Stephan spent another moment pondering the boiling situation in Caytor. He realized he should probably hire a few mercenaries, just to be on the safe side. He had never really retained any killers, but it looked as if he ought to now.

That was part of his dilemma. Should he wait in Eybalen? Rheanna might come back to the city. After all, she had all her assets here. She had her connections, her customers, maybe some friends. Then, if she returned, she could find herself surrounded by a thousand smiling enemies. Pain Daye was definitely lost to her, unless…unless Sebastian was her secret ally. That might also make sense. Late Emperor James had made himself the famous young ruler there and won the hearts of half the Caytorean society. Perhaps they loved his widow equally well.